


What Comes Around, Goes

by gilligankane



Category: Guiding Light
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-19
Updated: 2009-07-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:25:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karma can be a bitch sometimes, and sometimes... It can be better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Comes Around, Goes

She thinks, maybe in a past life, she must have pissed off some  _very_ important people. Not that she hasn’t pissed off important people in  _this_  life, but not anyone serious enough to warrant  _this_.

Because  _this_  is the result of some  _serious_  karmic ass-kicking.

“Just calm down,” she says gently, for the fifth, maybe sixth time since she woke up this morning; since the high-pitched scream of a confused, hung-over Blake Marler startled her from some of the best sleep she’s had in a while.

She must have done some serious,  _serious_  shit.

Because Blake just won’t stop pointing at her and staring and making small noises in the back of her throat that sounded better last night than they do this morning – last night they were softer and more of a sigh and this morning it just makes her sound like a wounded animal being slaughtered, slowly.

It’s a terrible image.

But Blake, half-naked in her bed,  _screaming_ , isn’t that much better.

She takes a minute to consider the “half-naked” part of this, because she’s not exactly fully dressed herself and because the sheets off of  _her_  bed – the ones that she bought because they were white and simple and on sale – are only pulled partially up Blake’s body, tucked under her arms haphazardly and formed to the other woman’s curves just so.

She tilts her head to the left and stares some more.

Blake is actually  _hot_.

Like, seriously and undeniable  _hot_  and she can’t help but wonder why the redhead buries it under her Company t-shirt and her publication work and brooding about Frank being lonely.

“Wow,” she says softly under her breath, aware that she’s wearing a t-shirt and nothing else and that her legs are just a little cold in the cool air moving through the room but there’s a spot on her body  _raging_  right now.

And Blake must hear her, because she stops screaming –  _thank god_.

“Wow,  _what_?” she mutters angrily, pulling the sheets tighter around her body, causing Doris’ mouth to dry up faster than the ink on Olivia’s divorce papers.

Blake  _really_  shouldn’t do that.

Cause it’s definitely  _not_  helping anything.

“You, uh,” she struggles to find a way to say this without sounded like a guy, or a pervert, but tact has never been her strong suit. “You look  _good_ ,” she admits slowly.

And Blake kind of growls.

“Stop,” the redhead demands, eyes narrowed to a slit.

She grins a little lopsided. “Stop what?”

“Stop having sex with me with your  _eyes_ ,” Blake grounds out, an arm covering her chest protectively, like Doris has x-ray vision and can suddenly see through the sheets.

 _Wouldn’t that be nice_ , she can’t help but think.

“I can’t help it,” she blurts out, her eyes stuck somewhere between Blake’s knees and her bellybutton. “It’s, it’s  _too_  easy.”

“Well  _cut. It. Out.”_  Blake says, definitely growling this time.

She throws her hands up like Blake is going to start screeching again and tackle her, pummel her and leave her for dead.

It’s possible.

“Well,” she counters, suddenly angry – because Blake, hell,  _a woman_ , is half-naked in her bed and she can’t really do anything  _good_  about it, because she’s being freaked out on. “I’m not going to,” she finally declares, like a five-year-old who’s suddenly announced that she refuses to eat all her disgusting vegetables.

She has to physically resist the urge to stick out her tongue, instead, biting down on her bottom lip.

Blake glares.

“I said  _stop_ ,” she hisses. “Or, or I’ll come over there and…”

 _And I’ll kiss you_ , Doris wishes the sentence would end.

“And I’ll make you wish you’d never ran for office,” is how it  _really_  ends.

She raises her head upward, eyes into the ceiling and groans. “Fuck you,” she whispers skyward.

“Excuse me?” Blake asks tightly.

But she ignores Blake. “ _Finally_ , I get a woman in here and you have to make her all jumpy and confused and regretful. And you have to make her  _Blake_? Is this a joke? It’s not _funny_ ”, she growls. “It’s actually really, really not funny. And you know what? I think you’re stupid and resentful that I got laid.” She shakes her head and ignores Blake some more. “Yeah, fuck you.”

“Did you just tell off  _God_ ,” Blake asks, mortification coloring her voice.

Apparently, Blake Marler has been spending too much time with Natalia Rivera.

“Oh, just  _go_ ,” she mutters to Blake darkly: not really angry, just a little let down. “Scoot, andale, go.”

“I, uh, need my clothes,” Blake says, minutes later.

Doris throws her hands up into the air with a sigh. “Just can’t please you, can I? Blake doesn’t want me to look at her, Blake wants her clothes, Blake wants to leave,” she rants. “Well, the door is at the bottom of the stairs. Do me a favor and tell my kid I’m gay if you see her and give the door a good, solid slam, kay?”

Blake pauses in the middle of slipping her t-shirt on. “Are you, are you  _okay_?” she asks gently and Doris resists the urge to throttle her.

She smiles humorlessly. “I need a drink.”

“Had enough of  _those_  already,” Blake mutters and she loses it, seeing red and nothing else, honing in on Blake’s hair and her mouth and when she finally finds Blake’s mouth with her own, it feels familiar and tastes like martinis: extra dirty.

Olivia Spencer needs to get the hell out of her head and her drinking habits.

She doesn’t get the reaction she was expecting. Blake remains decidedly quiet, for the most part; at least, there’s no screaming. It’s more of a muted muffle of an exhale into Doris’s mouth and she takes it, holds it and lets it back out without preamble.

She hopes Ashlee walks in on them this very second.

It would certainly make a hilarious story for later days.

Later days, when she wasn’t pulling Blake’s shirt back up over her head and pushing her back until her knees hit the edge of the bed and the redhead went toppling backwards. Later days, when she wasn’t crawling up over Blake’s thighs and settling there and winding her fingers in the sheets by Blake’s head while her tongue winded with Blake’s. Later days, when she wasn’t rolling over and pulling Blake down on top of her and working a steady rhythm with her thigh as her heel anchored in the mattress.

She hopes Ashlee stays the hell away from her room.

\---

Blake snores softly next to her – partially adorable, partially annoying, because after all, it’s  _snoring_  – but she refuses to fall asleep.

Waking up to Blake screaming isn’t the way she wants to start her day,  _again_.

“It’s four in the afternoon,” Blake groans, rolling onto her side which causes problems because the side she rolls onto just happens to be draped across Doris’s midsection and Doris can feel fingers wriggling in places she doesn’t need them at the moment.

“And?” she breathes out, as easily as she can. Blake’s fingers flex and she can’t even move.

“And, we should, you know,  _get up_.”

“Al-alright,” she agrees quickly, her heart beating a little too sporadically in her chest for her liking.”As soon as, as soon as you  _stop that_.”

Blake smiles innocently and now,  _now_  Doris knows why Blake usually gets what she wants. “Stop what?”

The fingers flex again and Doris feels herself fly off the mattress and land in the middle of the bedroom, clutching her t-shirt to her chest with her mouth open, panting.

“ _What_  is your problem?” Blake hisses, because a half an hour ago, they heard the door open and Ashlee announce her presence to what she  _thought_  must have been an empty house.

“I said  _stop_ ,” Doris hisses back, glaring a little.

“Oh, you didn’t want me to,” the redhead says flippantly, smiling wide and large, wearing nothing besides that smile.

She has to gulp a few times and look away before she can even say anything.

But Blake doesn’t let her speak – not that she could anymore if she wanted too – because she’s sliding across the comforter and dropping off the bed and her tongue catches Doris’ bottom lip so naturally, so familiar.

She must have pissed off some people in one of her last lives, but right now, with the shit definitely not hitting the fan, she’s cool with it, because  _Blake Marler_  has her tongue down her throat and her hands are slipping into places that now crave the redhead’s touch.

Karma’s a bitch.

But she always liked a good fight.


End file.
